All I want For Christmas...
Perceptor looks around, as it seems everyone present has gone. He looks down at his ticket and where it once read a number it now reads "YOU!". The scientist blinks at the ticket and then walks up to one of the elves. "I, um, believe that this says it's my turn now, please?" he asks, somewhat timidly, offering the ticket to Elf #1. "Well right this way, sir!" Robo-Elf #1 cheerfully takes Perceptor's ticket, and motions him towards San-Tah. San-Tah, for his part, smiles jovially. "Ho ho HO! Come on, Perceptor! Climb up and tell ol' San-Tah what Christmas Wishes you have!" Octane empties his second Energon holiday cane before carefully capping it and picking up his box again to stare dreaminly at the image depicted on the front of the container. Oh, what could it be?! Foxfire is here. He certainly can't pass up the offer to speak to San-Tah and perhaps get a new chew toy. After all, he's been a good little fox this year, not counting the pranks on unsuspecting mechs. The little cassette slinks about, perking his ears at the sight of Nightbeat. Well, there's a familiar face, at least. And Perceptor, too! This ought to be good. Nightbeat arches his brow, up to this point it's been Decepticons, Moron's and... at least one meatbag. But Perceptor is a serious sort, gifted and intelligent... if he's here, well, either San-Tah is just that good, or there's something more to it. His attention turns rather keenly to the exchange, seeming to lose all focus on Octane entirely as this new twist is introduced to the case. Perceptor follows suit of the those that went before him and he gets up on San-Tah's knee, gingerly at first as he doesn't wanna hurt the mech but finding his weight is supported quite well indeed. His face is drawn into a dire expression, "Well, you see San-Tah you're sort of my last hope." he begins speaking quietly so maybe only San-Tah will hear him. "When I exiled myself to Cybertron, I made myself a companion. A lab assistant, whom I named Turnover. I instilled rather complex and advanced AI within him, and now he's very intelligent and very aware. Both of what he is, and his limitations. But he's very sweet, very innocent, and very well meaning. I ask my wish for him..not for myself. I want to make him one like ourselves. With the ability to transform, more over, even to being a quad-changer. That is within my technical expertise to do, and is not while I'm here..I'm here to ask on his behalf that I might find someoen who is able or find outright..a real laser-core...so I can make him as Cybertronian as the materials from which I constructed him. It would mean so very much to him...to my dear son.." he speaks quietly, almost guiltily, as if offering confession rather than a Christmas Wish. Wow, that's almost heart-breaking. Nightbeat pauses for a moment, wondering how the dirty cheat is going to handle this one... after all, that's a pretty heavy wish right there. And if the red-suited troublemaker tries some halfbaked scheme, there's gonna be trouble! Perceptor's request seems to have touched the gumshoe, and maybe if the big red goon doesn't come through, well, maybe Nightbeat can. Hey, he's a detective, finding stuff is his job! San-Tah smiles slightly at Perceptor's story, as possibilities race through his head. He could radio Grim-Repair again, and ask the mech to rip out his laser core as he had his transformation cog...but there was no way to get it up here in time. Or, he could rip out someone else's..but travel was still a premium. He runs through a few other options, ones that would send Perceptor on quests, or involve Octane's sudden demise, but all are soon decided to be incorrect. At long last, he speaks, looking just past Perceptor, into the skies above. "Twas the night before Christmas, so many ages ago, it seems. There were three of us, then." He continues on, luckily, as a Junkion fixated on movies and longer art forms, his speech is not quite as affected as his brethren. "We'd joined together as scientists, as medics; as friends, from our common love of Terran holidays. Myself..Grim-Repair..and Cruci-Fix. We were inseperable. Life was peaceful then, sure..now and then, someone's brother would fall through the ice and go deaf in one ear, but we'd fix him back up in a jiffy. Until the day that shuttle crashed. I remember being on the team that put your beloved leader Ultra Magnus back together; Cruci was monitoring vitals, and Grim was finding spare parts, as was each of their specialties. When the time came to fly to Cybertron, we decided we would go. As field medics. As a repair team. As soldiers. Whatever would be required." He takes a moment to intake air, deeply. He continues. "We were on the ground, running to and fro, collecting the wounded and the fallen, doing the best we could to help. As fighters, we could not be of much service. I have my size, but no speed. Grim has his dexterity, but no firepower. Cruci could fly in his robot mode, but had not even a single weapon at his disposal. A peaceful mech." "During the battle, that planet-turned-devil sent flying anything he could get his hands on. We were lucky not to get hit..until....I didn't even see it coming. Cruci-Fix did. He saw it, large enough to tear through our makeshift surgical station, but not so large that..well...he reacted as best he could. He flew up into the air, and, with arms outstretched, took the brunt of the flaming metal; his quick thinking and risks were correctly taken..he slowed it enough that it fell, just short of of us, of Grim, of the seven mechs whom we were tending to." He pauses, and reaches over into his bag; shortly thereafter, he withdraws a battered, damaged, and bruised laser core, which he holds, staring at it lovingly. "Grim and I went our seperate ways thereafter..it wasn't the same. I kept this, hoping one day I could rebuild him...but I am but a tinkerer. A toymaker. You...you can resurrect him. Give him new life as your creation. Cruci-Fix is gone, I know that..but that which he was, the kind spirit, the helpful nature, the embodiment of Good, must have come from this..and, perhaps, it is those attributes which can live again through Turnover." He holds the laser core out to Perceptor, looking him straight in the optics. Perceptor blinks, and if tears could track their way down the cold metal cheeks of the Scientist's faceplate, they would be. The expression on his face is one that matches the action. He nervously bites his lip and returns the look San-Tah gives him. When he speaks, it is soft and gentle and full of sincerity and hope. "I promise you this, San-Tah. I will focus on this, and moreover, I will work to make sure that as much of the light and warmth this core contained will shine once again, and will once again work towards saving and improving just as Cruci-Fix did." he pauses. Gingerly, he reaches out and takes the core offered him. "I don't care how long it takes..I will prove myself worthy of you and your compatriots and make you proud of me." he says softly, looking at the core. San-Tah nods to Perceptor. "I have no doubts." Then, almost as if someone flipped a switch on his backside, he smiles nad lets out a probably-overdone "Ho ho ho! And now, let's smile!" He puts on his biggest grin, as a somewhat-startled Robo-Elf #2 clumsily begins taking pictures...of his feet, of his face, of the crowd, of the corner Nightbeat is standing in, of the sky...of all things, before he finally gets the camera back around the right way, and snaps off a photo of the scene in front of him. San-Tah helps Perceptor down to the ground, even as Robo-Elf #3 timidly comes forward to offer him a energon-cane. Robo-Elf #1 turns to see if there's anyone left in line.